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We did some awkward kissing, but the tub idea wasn’t nearly as successful as it had been with Jeff. All I could think about was how much time I had left to kill. Three hours felt like an eternity.
He ran his fingers over my shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here. I wish you could stay all night.”
“I don’t think you could afford that!”
He laughed. “You’d break me. There’s no discount if I get you for several hours?”
“No, sorry.” I knew he wanted me to strike some sort of deal, but I wasn’t going to play that game. I changed the subject, and we talked about miscellaneous things for a few minutes before it was finally time to get out of the tub. I took my time drying off. While I was doing it, I looked out into the hallway. It was covered with neatly framed prints which looked vaguely familiar.
“These are gorgeous. Who is it?”
I was impressed. I killed as much time as I could inspecting them before returning to the bedroom. Willy was lying naked on the bed, waiting for me. He was completely flaccid. Terrific, I thought. This was where I started feeling remarkably unprofessional. I was not very good at my job.
I lay down next to him, and we started kissing. Amazingly, he actually got hard. “Would you like me to get a condom?” I asked.
I dashed to the living room to get my bag. By the time I was back, he was flaccid again. Oh well. I’d be ready the next time. We kissed some more, and he got hard again. I pulled out a condom and handed it to him. He put it on with some difficulty. He was starting to fade again. We tried to get him inside, but it didn’t work too well. He wasn’t hard at all. Fuck, I thought. What was I supposed to do?
We took the condom off, and I went down on him some more. We pulled a sixty-nine, and he ate me out as I went down on him. It wasn’t incredibly pleasurable, but at least it killed the time. I alternated between using my hands and using my mouth. It was clear he wasn’t going to get hard. When I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I turned around to kiss him. We kissed as he began masturbating.
Great, I thought. He’s just going to take care of himself. I hoped he wouldn’t complain about my inadequate services. We kissed for a while, and then he asked me to turn around so he could go down on me again. He ate me out and masturbated at the same time. I kissed his thighs and tried to move just enough to prevent muscle cramps. My body was not happy with the situation. At last, he just kind of stopped.
“Would you like me to do something?” I asked.
“I came,” he replied, sounding surprised.
Fuck, I’d missed it. Again! I pretended that I had noticed.
“I know. I just wondered if you wanted me to do anything.”
He patted the bed next to him so I just lay down, and we lay in silence for a moment.
“I go to Barbados tomorrow.”
“Really? That’s exciting. Are you going for New Year’s?”
“For how long are you there?”
“Just a couple of days. I was supposed to go for a month with my girlfriend. I rented a house. But we’re not seeing each other anymore. I was going to try to find someone else to rent it for me or to go with me, but then I figured, fuck it. Fuck it.” He waved his hand emphatically and laughed. “Fuck it.”
I laughed, too.
“Unless you want to go…?” he asked, only partly joking.
I felt bad, but I wasn’t going to Barbados with him. “I’m sorry, I’ve got plans for New Years.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
We lay in silence for a bit. “I’d love to wake up next to you,” he said. I murmured something unintelligible in response. I didn’t know what else to say. “Are you sure you can’t sleep over?”
“I’m sorry.” My three hours were almost up. Finally. I got up to start putting on my clothes. “I’ve got to pee.”
“The nearest bathroom is through the kitchen.”
I went through the kitchen. It was immaculate. There was a huge photograph of Madonna on the refrigerator. When I came out of the bathroom, Willy was leaning up against it.
“I like your Madonna picture.”
“Thanks. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”
“Totally. I’m a big fan.” The two of us stared at the picture for a few seconds in silence.
“Are you sure you can’t stay all night?” he asked for the hundredth time.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go by the office to check in and drop off the money. I’ll get in trouble.”
He sighed. “I’ve never done this before. Can you give me the number of the agency so I can find you again? I can’t remember what number I called.”
I was highly skeptical that he’d “lost” the number, but I didn’t say anything. What did I care? “Sure.”
I got dressed and gave him the number.
“Here’s mine.” He handed me his phone number. “If you’re at loose ends later, give me a call.”
I kissed him goodbye.
“Are you sure you can’t stay?” he asked, for the last time.
“I’m sorry.” We kissed again and I left, six hundred dollars richer.